"Did it go well?" he heard, the moment he stepped in. She was leaning against the console, once again, this time wearing some sort of blue and red get-up that he couldn't place. He walked toward her and managed a weak smile by the edge of the opposite side of the controls.
He took off his hat and placed it on a hook near the door. "Always, River," he dismissed. "Are you planning on dropping in here whenever I decide to meet her?"
She smiled brightly at him, and walked closer to him. He felt a slight twinge of annoyance. What was with these women and invading his personal space? One was his wife (who he would never deserve), so that was understandable, and the other was a (wonderful, brilliant, extraordinary) lizard from before the dawn of humanity, where there was a lesser understanding of a "comfort zone".
However, wasn't his wife tortured because of his existence? Surely that was enough to try to avoid him and stay away from him, wasn't it?
And Vastra had stayed with humanity for years, accustomed with their sense of appropriate space requirements. Why didn't she try to stay away? Why didn't she understand that being close to him was dangerous? Didn't she see that at Demons Run?
All of his annoyance then flashed into harsh self-directed loathing. How dare he complain about those who were people? How dare he suggest to himself that he deserved comfort?
"You're making it sound like I'm not wanted," she said, the smile plastered clearly on her face. He flinched.
"No, no! Never, of course not! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that Ijustmeantthat-" he blubbered on, horrified.
"Sweetie," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, "I know you didn't mean it like that."
He started shaking. The smile had left her. He had made her unhappy. He was a disappointment to her, wasn't he? He was such an idiot.
"Calm down," she said, as she hugged him closely and whispered comforting words in Gallifreyan, telling him his true name, trying to pacify his thoughts.
His shaking grew more violent, as he tried to loosen himself from her. With a startling moment of clarity of thought, he realized why she was hugging him.
She's restraining me, he realized.
He would only need to be restrained for one reason. She thought he was going to hurt her. Terror raced through him.
Had he hurt her, physically? (Mentally was assured. He had ruined her existence from her conception.) Surely he had (he remembered Manhattan, her wrist, and the scathingly true words of hiding from him), but had he ever, with his own body hurt her?
He probably had, if she was afraid he would do it. However, he had to assure her that he would never do such a thing to her.
"River," he called out, "River, it's safe to let go of me."
"Not for you, it's not," she scoffed, hugging him even tighter. "You held through strongly with Vastra. I make you reduce to shivering. What does that mean?"
"It's cold in here," he joked, as he tried his best to stop the shaking. "And how did you know what I was like with Vastra? There's no way she could contact you that quickly."
"Time travel, sweetie," she said, releasing him, but still holding onto his hands. "You introduced me to it."
"Sorry," he murmured quietly, averting her eyes.
"Stop blaming yourself for every bad thing that's happened in my life," she ordered with a huff, shaking him, forcing his eyes back to her's. "It's been over a week since you last hurt yourself. I find that almost too good to be true."
"Vastra checked me. I'm clean," he reassured, trying to direct her away from examining him.
"You're making it sound like you're on drugs," she pointed out. "And she only checked your arms, didn't she?"
"Are you suggesting that I would try to do something other than cut?" he asked dryly.
"You've burned yourself. I wouldn't put anything past you," she said. "And there are more places to cut that your arms." Gently, she led him away from his position near the console and to a hallway.
"Where are we going?" he asked, almost hesitantly.
"To our room," she said. "You're going to undress, and you might as well be comfortable for it."
"Then I'm just going to redress and start working on a Rubik Cube, like you told me to that last time you were here," he pointed out.
"No you're not," she said, dragging him even faster down the corridor.
"I'm really not in the mood for- for shenanigans, River," he warned.
"If I want sex, I'll just go to a different version of you," she promised. "I want you to go to sleep."
"I don't sleep, River. You know that," he sighed. "That's something I've been avoiding since my ninth incarnation."
"You're going to do it anyway," she said, as she continued to drag him down the corridors. They stopped at their door, clearly marked in Gallifreyan, and River opened the door, as she let go of his hand and gave a pointed look at the interior.
"Go in," she encouraged. "The TARDIS can procure sleeping pills."
"I'm not going to sleep," he said stubbornly, stopping at the doorway.
"Well, I still need to examine you," she said, with just as much ferocity. "So go in and strip."
"That sounds so dirty," he said, still at the doorway.
She gave him a push. "I meant it to be, Sweetie. Now, I need to check you."
He silently refused, and stood his ground.
"You're being childish," she complained, grabbing a hold of his arms. Still he refused, taking a step back.
"So you are hiding something. That's not very encouraging," she sighed, as she released his arms. She looked at him carefully.
"You're not going to run?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"You and the TARDIS will gang up on me. I know better now," he claimed.
"But you're still not cooperating. How is that knowing better?" she challenged, taking a step towards him. "Just go in the room!"
He opened his mouth, as if to complain, but then shut it and looked down, losing her gaze. He scurried into the room and then turned to River.
"I'm in the room," he announced dryly.
"Good. Now let me examine you," she ordered, as she stepped in the room.
Slowly, she closed the door and turned on the lights, and then approached him.
He took off his jacket and shirt easily, showing him the bare skin of his chest.
"No cuts," River praised, "But what's that there?"
She poked at his shoulder, noticing the slight swelling. "That's the nerve cluster you've always warned me about."
"Yes, it is," he agreed, squirming away from her.
"You've hurt it," she stated. "That one nerve cluster meant to debilitating you, and you hurt it."
"Nothing dangerous," he huffed. "I just pinched it."
She said nothing, as she continued her examination. Frowning, she suddenly ran her hand against his head. He felt a small ache when she reached the bruise.
"How did that happen?" she asked. "I fainted," he explained.
"From the cluster," she muttered. "I'm going to call Vastra."
His head shot up. "What? No!"
"Why shouldn't I?" she asked.
"Because- because," he stammered. "Then I'll be able to cut freely because that's the only reason why I'm not!"
She considered this, and shook her head.
"I'm going to get the sleeping pills. Change into your sleeping clothes," she ordered. "I'll consider."
He heard the unspoken part of that. More blackmail. Was that all that was controlling him?
He meekly started to get into his sleeping clothes and waited quietly on the bed for her return. He wondered distantly why he had yelled (raised his voice, used an exclamation point), and then begged. Something wasn't right. What had happened to him, that his mental state was crumbling so much that he couldn't understand why he was doing something?
He pondered this, as he saw River return to the room, with a cup of water in her hands.
"I've already dissolved the pills. All you need to do is drink the water," she explained, handing him the glass.
He took it and readily gulped it down, before he put it on the nightstand, while still looking at her.
"I'm going to tell Vastra," she said, "But don't worry."
What was that supposed to mean, don't worry?
He tried to reply, but found his tongue was too heavy for him to move. Then he fell back onto the bed, paralyzed.
"Go to sleep, Doctor," River said.
He couldn't really tell if she said anything after that.